To Boldly Go
by mikey magee
Summary: On a mission to find a known time terrorist, Uhura is flung into Earth's past. Lost in a strange time, and an Earth she does not recognize Uhura must keep her wits about her and find away to return to Starfleet. But, this is a task she won't have to endure alone. some new found comrades Uhura will do all she can to protect the timeline, and boldly go where no man has gone before.
1. Chapter 1

Uhura was beginning to learn a lot while being stationed on the Enterprise. Namely that theory always went out the door when it came to field work. She had studied countless foreign and local languages. She knew three different Klingon dialects. She had mastered every language (modern and ancient) that the Earth had to offer, and even still she was learning new words and applications every day.

But none of that mattered if she didn't know how to handle herself when diplomacy was no longer an option. She was trained in combat, of course, all Starfleet officers were, but it was never her favorite use of her time. Wasn't humanity supposed to have moved beyond that by now?

Uhura and the rest of the Enterprise crew stood at their posts in the, awaiting Captain Kirk to take his position and begin the agenda for today. Apparently there had been an escape down on earth. Some kind of-what was it that Starfleet had called him?-time terrorist.

Drew Bigsby. A man obsessed with finding a way back to the past. No one knew what his real objective was, or why he even cared so much about Earth's previous misgivings. Hell, why move backwards when there was so much to look forward to? Did this guy really want to relive the war, savagery, and illnesses that plagued mankind beforehand? Did he really want to remember that injustices that happened? Uhura wasn't sure, but all she did know was that Bigsby needed to be stopped, and the Enterprise was the only crew that could see to that.

Moments later Kirk and Spock entered the bridge. Kirk's uniform was wrinkled around his collar, and his shirt was barely tucked into his belt. Spock, on the other hand, stood with the pristine shine of a fresh Starship. Clean, orderly, and more manufactured than anything Starfleet could whip up.

"Captain on the bridge," Sulu said as and the rest of the crew stood. Uhura knew the drill.

Kirk took his place at the captain's chair, and Spock stood by his side.

"Status report," Kirk said.

Uhura responded. "All systems are ready captain, we can depart at your order."

Kirk nodded, "Alright. Let's launch this son of a bitch."

The engines revved up, the world began to ascend and Uhura felt her stomach begin to flip in her body. She always hated the ascent into space, just as much as she hated the descent back to earth. She had never liked roller coasters as a kid, the feeling of not being in control of yourself, or your body was a terrifying thought. But...great expeditions always came with discomfort. At least, that's what they preached back at the Academy.

"So team" Kirk said as their ascent slowed, "According to Starfleet our boy Bigsby was last seen in the Alpha Quadrant. Some of the guys back home he may have set up shop there."

"Really?" Uhura asked. The Alpha Quadrant wasn't that far from Starfleet, if this guy wanted to hide wouldn't he have done it in a sector that wasn't in Starfleet's backyard? "Doesn't that seem a little too easy?"

Kirk just shrugged, "Apparently this guy's not that smart." He typed a few coordinates on his captain's chair and grinned. "Well, doesn't make much difference to me. Sooner we get him the sooner I can get back to sleep."

He means sleeping around, Uhura thought. That probably wasn't the proper thing to think about your commanding officer, but Uhura didn't really care. Kirk hardly qualified to lead anything, let alone an expedition to find a time terrorist.

Reaching the Alpha Quadrant was easy for anyone with basic piloting skills. The enterprise reached their destination within hours. When the ship docked on the outer reaches of an asteroid (that intel had told them Bigsby was hiding) Kirk grabbed his phaser, and got to work.

"Alright team, here's the plan. If we split up and take different corners of the asteroid, we may be able to find Bigsby." He turned to Uhura, "You and Sulu will take the easternmost part of the rock, me and Sulu will take the south."

And Spock raised his eyebrow, and that could only mean one thing:

"Are you sure that's the most logical course of action?" Spock asked. "Wouldn't it be more beneficial if we kept our unit whole and went in stronger?"

Kirk just waved him off, "You have your orders everyone."

Great, Uhura thought, Another plan by Captain "Shoot First Asks Questions Never" Kirk. But, she did have her orders. But even if Kirk didn't want to think for a second didn't mean she had to follow suit. There was too much about this that didn't make sense. And you didn't have to be a Vulcan to realize it. Normally, Spock was more open to questioning Kirk's decisions, but lately, Spock seemed to find more satisfaction in watching Kirk's plans blow up in his face.

Uhura grabbed her phaser from her holster and set it to stun. If Bigsby was in that Asteroid, she wouldn't be caught off guard. She turned to Sulu and he nodded. They were ready for this.

* * *

The asteroid had clearly been tampered with. Spock's instruments could pick up on it easily. The within the cracks and rock were small atmosphere emitting organisms that made the place habitable. Technology like that was still a ways off, but hey, Bigsby was a time traveling terrorist. It wasn't far off to assume he had pilfered tech from eons into the future. Maybe even from other planets. Who could tell? All Uhura was interested in was taking the guy down, and getting back to earth.

Sulu and Uhura approached cautiously, Uhura's left hand on his phaser, and her right feeling the cracks of the asteroid wall. It's always important to remain in contact with something solid while visibility is low. Survival training was a bitch at the academy, but she was glad she paid attention.

"Do you see anything?" Sulu asked as they approached the ending of the cavern.

"No," Uhura replied, "But I'm not liking this plan at all. For all we know, this could be some kind of a trap."

That was just like Kirk, leading them from one mess to an even bigger one. Shit, she should be captain. At least then-

"Wait," Sulu said. Uhura jerked to a halt, and raised her phaser on impulse.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you hear that?" Sulu placed his ear close to the cavern and steadied his breathing. "Something's moving…"

"Do you think it could be Bigsby?" Uhura asked.

Sulu shrugged, "I'm not sure, but I need to be cautious."

Uhura nodded and reached for her communicator badge, "Uhura to Enterprise. Sulu and I have found the suspect in the Eastern part of the Asteroid's cavern, do you copy?"

"They can't hear you my dear," came a weak moan. A shrill pitched cry that was more of a feeling than an actual sound. "I've made sure to jam all communications."

Uhura and Sulu raised their phasers to into the dark shadows, "We are Sulu and Uhura of the Starship Enterprise," Uhura said, "Come out." Her voice deepened with a demanding gravel that she only used when she needed to convince herself of her own certainty. She wasn't sure if it was working.

Like the clouds parting from the sky, Bigsby stepped out of the shadows and into the light of emitters. Bigsby fit every bit of Starfleet's description. Caucasian, dark hair that bolted in all directions and crooked teeth that looked like they would fall out at the slightest word.

"You're coming with us Bigsby," Uhura said.

"I don't think so," Bigsby said. "See, I've already got what I've come for. And in a few seconds, I won't even be here." He clasped his hands behind his back.

"Put your hands where we can see them," Sulu demanded, "I won't ask a second time."

"No," Bigsby said, "You won't get the chance." And as by request, Bigsby's body began to shimmer. A wave of light encircled him, as if he were being transported to another vessel, and out of Uhura and Sulu's grasp. Shit, was there someone on the outside aiding him? Why hadn't the Enterprise noticed?

He was going to get away, Uhura was sure of it. Being able to speak three different dialects of Klingon wasn't going to aid her. Diplomacy was out the window. Communication was no longer feasible.

So all that was left was action.

Uhura bolted towards the light, her fists pumping against her arms, she pushed her heels into the hard ground of the asteroid, and catapulted herself straight into Bigsby's chest.

And just as suddenly as Uhura had acted, the light swirled, kept the darkness at bay, and then left nothing in its wake except a confused Hikaru Sulu.

"Shit,"


	2. Chapter 2

If there was one thing Ororo knew...it was that the only constant in life was uncertainty. The sky was always changing. Shifting clouds, waning sunlight, fickle stars, and sickly blizzards. Nothing was ever certain in Ororo's world.

And that was before she discovered she was a mutant.

When Charles Xavier approached, promising answers and a place where she could understand her own abilities, Ororo did the only logical thing. She accepted.

The world was always changing. From The Avengers forming and defending New York from the alien invasion, to Norse gods coming down from the heavens, to secret agencies monitoring everyone's move, Xavier believed the best thing for his students was to keep their abilities hidden. There were too many world altering changes happening right now, the last thing anyone needed was to discover that the human biology was changing, and forming mutants. And Ororo agreed. Why invite more scrutiny to your door? If you could thrive in the shadows, why not? The streets of Cairo had taught her that. Being a pickpocket meant that you had to know when and where to strike. One wrong move meant going hungry and best, and forfeiting one's life at worse. Subtlety was key.

She had hoped joining Xavier's X Men would help bring some stability to her life. The training had helped her hone her abilities. And she had allies. Jean Grey, and Scott Summers, and Hank Mccoy and Warren Worthington. For once in her life, she wasn't alone.

But as time wore on, Ororo realized that wasn't enough. There was still something missing inside of her. Something important and strong, and without it, it was as if the sun had been taken from the sky itself. Each day, she found herself staring outside the window of the third floor, gazing out into the ever expanding lawn of the Xavier's Institute.

She was an adult. A grown woman who needed no one's permission to do as she pleased, and yet she still felt lost in a world that was not ready to embrace her. It was frustrating. What would the world do with a woman who kept the sky at bay? Who flew through the clouds and command the winds to howl?

"Ororo," Xavier called from the Institute's intercom. "I need you in my office, immediately."

Ororo blinked twice, and moved a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I wonder what it could be this time?"

* * *

Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, a solemnity on his countenance. A look Ororo had only ever seen once. Even though Xavier was confined to a wheelchair, his presence was still felt all throughout any room he inhabited.

Ororo stepped up to his desk and smiled, "You wanted to see me professor?" she asked.

Xavier nodded, "Yes." He tapped his pen onto the desk, unsure how to continue. "It has come to my attention that…" he paused, no, that was not the proper way to begin, "Ororo, we have a situation."

Ororo bit her lip. Situations, when it came to the professor, were always bad. A "situation" was a dormant mutant awakening and wreaking havoc on New York. A "situation" was the government gaining wind of their existence and taking steps to round them all up like animals. "What kind of situation?"

"In my recent dealings with Cerebro, I've noticed the awakening of dozens of different mutants across the New York area," he said.

Well, how was that a situation? Mutants were awakening everywhere, all over the world. Cerebro was how Xavier had found her, right? "Well," Ororo asked, "What's the problem?"

"The problem, is that I can no longer find those awakened mutants." Xavier rubbed his fingers against his temples, "As soon as Cerebro locked onto them, their signal vanished."

That...was unusual. "What are you saying? That the X-gene is regressing? Going back to sleep after-"

"No," Xavier interrupted, "Nothing like that." He took a deep breath and sighed, "I'm saying...there mutants are disappearing as soon as their genes manifest."

Ororo ran her fingers against her jeans. They fit snugly against her hips, and made her feel as though she were being bound. She couldn't move. Was she afraid of what was to come next? "Are you saying…"

"That someone is targeting new mutants?" Xavier finished, "Yes. that's exactly what I'm saying."

But, who could be targeting new mutants? And even still, how would they even know of an X-gene's manifestation? Xavier's Cerebro technology wasn't exactly something that could be reproduced, and even if it could, it required a telepath to operate it.

"Ororo, the last new mutant Cerebro located was a young girl named Kayla Pearson in the middle of Harlem." Xavier closed his eyes, and like sunlight through an ajar curtain, entered Ororo's mind. Kayla stood in full frame, just on the cusp of womanhood. She stood in all her splendor for Ororo to see. Dark skin, full lips, and hair that refused to be tamed by gravity.

"And…" Ororo said, "You want me to...what exactly?"

"I need you to investigate. Try and find her," Xavier said. "Ororo, out of all of the X-men, you're the only one I know who can move in and out of places easily. Jean is still getting used to her powers, Scott's morality keeps him from doing what needs to be done. And Logan," Xavier paused, and then waved the thought away. "I need someone...subtle. You're the only one who can do this. Please."

Subtlety. It was always about subtlety.

"Yes professor. You can count on me."

* * *

Knowing your surroundings was always paramount in Cairo. When Ororo was a pickpocket, she always had to be aware of her escape routes. How long the streets were, where they turned, which areas to avoid, and most importantly...she had to know the people.

It was always easy to spot those who did not belong on the streets of Cairo. People who smiled too openly, People who never glanced behind them. And it was always easy to know which people to avoid. Those who kept their eyes in one direction, whose voices never wavered when they spoke, who walked with purpose instead of a listless wander. If you knew the people of an area, you knew the area in its entirety.

Deep in the heart of Harlem, Ororo found herself lost. Men in oversized jackets wandered the streets, little girls played double dutch right outside the barbershop. Ororo knew the streets of Cairo, she knew the ways of the X Men, she knew the breath of the sky, but she did not know Harlem.

She could ask around, see if anyone had heard of Kayla, or knew her. Perhaps she could visit her home, after all Professor Xavier had provided her with an address. But all of that seemed too...public. If Ororo asked the girl's parents for information, she would only receive skepticism and accusation. And going to the police wouldn't be of any help either.

But...there was something she could do.

A few weeks ago, a man named Luke Cage became famous on the streets of Harlem. At first, Ororo believed him to be one of her kind. A mutant who was looking for his place in the world. But, a las, that was not the case.

He had recently been arrested and, through the grapevine of New York, a detective named Misty Knight was working on his release. Or...something to that effect, rumors were like storm clouds, you never could tell if they were trustworthy.

"Misty Knight?" Ororo whispered. Misty Knight was a detective, and she knew the streets of Harlem, and she knew the people. Right? After all, working in law enforcement for so long would mean intimacy with the underbelly of the city. Just what Ororo needed.

Perhaps it was time Ororo Munroe gave Detective Knight a visit.


	3. Chapter 3

Midgard was in peril, at least that was what Heimdall kept saying. Ever since the Dark Elves managed to slip past Heimdall's sight, he had stayed even more vigilant than before. It did not take the wisdom of Odin to see that he was overcompensating. And Valkyrie did not like it one bit. How could the warriors of Asgard be ready for a threat if their all-seeing guardsman leapt at the sight of the smallest inconvenience?

Valkyrie was known for her prowess in battle. Not even the lady Sif could match her. While all knew of her mastery of the sword, none knew of her softer wiles. Her long training, and tireless thirst for a good bout did not dull her beauty. Her skin was a deep, dark shade of night and her hair was tied in three parts, one for each of the realms she looked over. Asgard, the realm of the gods, Midgard, the realm of the mortals, and Valhala, the world of the fallen heroes. She was more beautiful than every jewel in the All-Father's treasury. And Thor Odison took notice.

"Heimdal," Valkyrie said as she approached the rainbow bridge, "What news does thou bring of Midgard?"

Heimdall sat with his back hunched against Valkyrie's words, and his eyes towards the infinite realms. "There is...a disturbance on Midgard, my lady."

Valkyrie tried not to roll her eyes, "Aye, as you have always told us."

But Heimdall shook his head, "No...this malice is...difficult to perceive. It changes and shifts like sands caught in a breeze."

Typical Heimdall, always talking in riddles.

"I miss your meaning good Heimdall," Valkyrie said. "Speak plainly."

Heimdall sighed, "I-I am not sure my lady." Heimdall said, his voice taking on an unsteady weariness that none in Asgard had ever heard from him before. "It is as if Midgard," he raised his fingers to his head, as if trying to hold onto the words forming in his mind, "Ever so slightly, is changing before my very eyes."

Was Heimdall losing his mind? In all of the centuries Valkyrie had known him to guard the bridge, never has Heimdall sounded so unsure of his own gaze. "Heimdall," she said as she placed her hand on his shoulder, "Perhaps it is time for you to rest a while."

"No, my lady." Heimdall said. "I may not understand what threat has Midgard at bay, but I know this...it is dangerous and it is slowly changing every aspect of the middle realm." His voice smashed through his mouth like a battering ram, blunt and sure of itself. "Midgard is in peril."

If Heimdall were telling the truth, then this could be a threat the likes of which Asgard had never faced. And if Midgard were to be taken over by this...whatever it was...there may have been a chance that the evil could spread far beyond the reaches of mortal man and into the realm of gods. Asgard, Valhalla, and all the rest of the realms could be in peril greater than even Loke could devise.

But...if it were just another one of Heimdall's alarmist tendencies then it would only further to weaken the realm's trust in their once great guardian. And Valkyrie knew the burden that guardianship was. What would become of Valhalla if she were not trusted? And more so, if the All-Father had lost the confidence of Heimdall, who would be there to watch the rainbow bridge? What would become of Asgard's first line of defense?

No. Such a fate could not befall Asgard, and further still, if there was an evil lurking in the depths of Midgard, Valkyrie would not allow it to harm an innocent.

"Good Heimdall," Valkyrie said, "I shall take the matter upon my shoulders. But do me this courtesy, and tell no other of your visions. I wish to discover the truth for myself."

Valkyrie, the would see justice done.

"Aye," Heimdall said, "As you command my lady."

* * *

As Valkyrie walked through the halls of the palace, she kept her gaze steadied and unwavering. She was the leader of the Valkyrior, the guardian of Valhalla, and now the only thing keeping Heimdall's reputation intact, and Asgard's self-assurance well guarded.

This had to be kept quiet. Valkyrie was learning more and more the power secrets had. A small conceleance to keep the warriors from worry. A little flattery to move a campaign along. As much as Valkyrie despised hiding her true intentions, sometimes it was needed for the greater good. What would Asgard do if it could no longer trust Heimdall? Why, it would be like looking down on the Odinson himself, and realizing that with all of his glory and valor he was really only a fraud. And such accusations could only lead to chaos.

Valkyrie slipped into the armory, and marveled at the rows of weaponry at her disposal. Enchanted swords that could sleigh any beast. Armor enhanced through sorcery to hold any blade at bay. Arrows that would never miss their targets.

How could she not marvel? But Valkyrie was a warrior of habit. She reached for a blade, clenched the breastplate around her body, and smiled. Whatever awaited her on Midgard, she would be prepared.

"Valkyrie?" Came a soothed voice from behind. Valkyrie knew that tone. A soft concern hushed over by the strength of a kingdom's future. Thor Odinson.

"Thor," Valkyrie said, "What are you doing here."

Thor smiled, "I had hoped to find a new weapon to spar with. But now, I seem to have found an even greater prize." The Odinson grabbed Valkyrie's hand and gently placed his lips to her wrists. "It is not every day I am blessed with such beauty."

Ah Thor, ever the charmer. Though, Valkyrie could not say she did not enjoy the attention. Ever since they were young Thor had had his eyes on her. But Valkyrie was a warrior, and warriors could not let their hearts be swayed by idle flattery. They could not allow romance to seep into their hearts were a love of glory should stand proudly. No...romance was out of the question.

Which was why…

"Well, if your fortune is so unfavorable good Thor, then perhaps you should savor your luck." Valkyrie reached for Thor's lips, and allowed her mouth to envelope his.

...which was why their love was never spoken of outside of their bed.

Valkyrie knew the usefulness of secrets. What warrior worth her salt did not?

"Are you on your way to a battle?" Thor asked.

"No my love," Valkyrie said. "I'm just readying myself for what may come. After all, a warrior must always be ready for battle."

"Yes, you speak with wisdom my love," Thor said as he ran his fingers through her hair. "I wish I could stay but there is work that must be done and-"

"I understand. The duties of a prince are endless." Just as the duties of a guardian, for Valkyrie too had a duty to uphold, and a mission that needed to be sought through.

* * *

"My lady," Heimdall said once Valkyrie had returned to his side. "Have you readied yourself for the coming battle?"

She nodded, clenched her sword to her side. "Aye. I am ready." Even if Heimdall's new mission was just a wild goose chase, she would rather she be the one to uncover it. If all else failed, at least she would spare Heimdall the dishonor of suffering the All-Father's tongue.

"Then…" Heimdall opened the bridge, and a wave of light engulfed the air. Reds battled with purple. Green danced on the tip of white nothingness. "My sight has located the source of the anomaly, my lady," Heimdall's voice boomed, "And my power shall guide you to it…"

And like lighting bolting from the sky and onto the earth, Valkyrie stood on the rough pavement of Midgard. Mortals looked on in distressed. Horseless carriages swerved from the streets, and in the far distance, Valkyrie could hear someone scream.

"So this is the Midgard Thor speaks so highly of?" she asked.

But, regardless of her entrance, all seemed...normal here. What anomaly was Heimdall foreshadowing? What great danger was there to be had here?

And then, Valkyrie turned to see a young woman. A mortal draped in a tight fighting red Tunic, and a strangely shaped badge attached to the chest. Her hair was a light hue, kissed by a chestnut tone. Her skin was almost as dark as Valkyrie's own. The woman's hair straggled in the breeze, and her hands clutched what seemed to be a weapon.

Was she the one causing Heimdall's visions?

"My name," the woman began, "Is Nyota Uhura. Communications officer of Starfleet." Her voice was commanding, but undercutted with a nervous uncertainty. She seemed to exude a strange confidence, but at the same time, her eyes betrayed her true feelings. Valkyrie had seen that look on every Asgardian who picked up arms and marched off to battle. It was fear. She was afraid. "And…" her voice hitched, "I…" She clenched her weapon, her finger tapping against the machine's edges like a drop of water against a mug's bottom. "...I need help."


	4. Chapter 4

The system was fucked up. Detective Misty Knight had always been critical of the American judicial and prison systems. Hell, being a black meant that you couldn't go five seconds without hearing how someone downtown got shot up. It was a fact of life down in Harlem. People distrusted cops. Black people especially. Which was why she joined up.

If there was corruption happening on the streets, and in the police stations Misty wanted to be the one to take it out. Simple as that. But after meeting Luke Cage, watching an innocent person go to jail because a bunch of cops were too spooked to deal with a bulletproof black man, and dealing with Mariah Dillard, a known politician who murdered her cousin, framed Luke Cage and walked free, it made Misty trust the system less and less. What good was a judicial system that only punished innocent people, while the criminals got to walk away free? What good was law enforcement when all it ever did was shoot black people, bury the bodies, and then act like it was doing the world a favor?

She was still on the Harlem police force, someone had to keep an eye on things there. But she trusted less, and started questioning more. She spent most of her free time hunting down leads on Luke Cage's case, looking for Cottonmouth's old gun running gang, and hunting for any thing that could help her nail Mariah Dillard's ass to the wall.

And Claire Temple, a locale nurse from Hell's Kitchen, was more than willing to help. Especially if it meant getting Luke Cage out of Seagate prison. He didn't deserve to be there. On that, they both agreed. The two formed a partnership, rented a little office a few blocks down from Pop's old barbershop, right in the heart of Harlem. The rat infested walls weren't exactly charming, but it provided privacy and enough space for Misty to work without interruption.

That day, Misty Knight sat at her desk in her private apartment, going over the recent turn of events. Harlem's Paradise, the club owned by the Cornell "Cottonmouth" Stokes, had been undergoing some renovations. It was closed for three days straight, and access to it was denied to everyone. Misty didn't trust that place when Cottonmouth ran it, and she sure as hell didn't trust it now that Mariah Dillard was in charge. At least with Cottonmouth, people knew he was a gangster. Mariah kept her cards close to her, she never revealed too much about how she felt, and always knew how to turn a conversation in her favor. Well, she _was_ a politician after all.

"What the hell could Mariah be hiding in there?" Misty asked as she leaned into her chair. It just didn't make sense. It was clear Dillard was involved with the gun runners in Harlem, but to what extent? And what was she getting out of it?

"Talking to yourself again?" Claire Temple asked as she walked into the office. She held two mugs of coffee, and a smug smile.

"Yeah," Misty said, "Someone's gotta figure this mess out while you're out-"

"Setting up my clinic?" Claire asked. "Listen, we've got an agreement." She handed Misty a mug of coffee and continued, "I do the medical shit and you do the detective shit. If you're planning on going out there to get shot up at, you'll need someone to stitch you back together."

Claire Temple had had quite a career in New York. When she left college with a degree in nursing, she had assumed she'd just be helping doctors diagnose illnesses and watching over patients as they healed. She never thought she'd run into a blind man dressed up like red devil and beat people to a pulp. She never thought she'd meet up with a bulletproof black man in a hoodie. She never thought she'd encounter a woman who could bench press trucks over her head, or a rich martial artist who fists glowed in the dark. No matter where Claire went, it seemed like people with abilities were always finding her...and getting themselves beaten to a pulp.

"Yeah," Misty said, "I remember our arrangement. Just make sure that when I do get my ass shot at, you're there when I need ya', 'kay?"

Claire smiled, "I always am, aren't I?" She sipped her mug, "So what have you gotten so far?"

"Well, Mariah is definitely hiding something in Harlem's Paradise, but no one can get near it to scope it out. And I-"

The sound of knuckles pounding against the door frame rammed through the air, cutting Misty off mid-sentence. Someone wanted their attention. Badly.

"I swear," Claire said with a growl, "If it's one of those people trying to get us to subscribe to that paper again…" Claire rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. She didn't understand why newspaper publishers had to be so pushy. She opened the door, and in front of her stood a black woman whose hair was as white as summer clouds. "H-hello?" Clair asked.

"Hello," the woman said. Her words came in a clipped burst, like thunder rolling through the sky, warning those below of a coming shower. And her accent was deep and alluring, but Claire couldn't quite place its origin. "I'm here to see Detective Misty Knight."

"And...you are…"

"Ororo Munroe," the woman said. "May I come in?" And without waiting for an answer, Ororo stepped beyond the threshold and into the room.

Ororo glanced at the carpeting, stained with what looked like old coffee spills. And took note of the cracked walls, and the listened to the scurry of little rat feet in the walls. This place was charming. "Misty Knight?" Ororo asked as she approached.

Misty placed her coffee mug down. "And you are?"

"Ororo Munroe, and I require your assistance."

Misty raised her eyebrow. She wasn't really in the mood to deal with bullshit right now. She still had Mariah to deal with, and Misty had never seen (or heard of) this Ororo chick. A good detective always makes it a point to know the major people on her beat, and Ororo Munroe wasn't any name Misty could place. "Really?" Misty asked, "So you just roll up in here, acting like you the Queen of Wakanda, and I'm supposed to drop what I'm doing?"

"I need your help. I'm looking for a missing girl." Claire walked up behind her "Her name's Kayla Pearson. She's a young black girl who-"

"Why come to me?" Misty Knight asked, "I think you'd have better luck down at the station. Kids go missing all the time, we've even got specialists for that kind of thing." It's not that Misty did not care about the missing girl, it's just that she did not have time. Yes, Kayla-whoever she was-probably had a family that missed her. But with working to prove Luke's innocence, and keeping tabs on Mariah, Detective Knight wasn't able to take on another case, especially one that could be better left to people who specialize in missing persons cases.

Still, even with the gentle rejection, Ororo would not yield. "And under normal circumstance, I would have taken this to the police. But you misunderstand the urgency. Kayla is not just a girl who went missing. She's a black girl." A girl with dark skin and tightly coiled hair that people pawed at when they believed she couldn't notice. "And I don't think I need to tell you of all people how little our system cares when black kids go missing."

Those words hit Misty like a stray bullet. Sharp, tense, and easily identifiable. This Ororo woman had a point. If Misty had dime for every case involving a missing black kid that got tossed to the side, she'd be able to buy Harlem's Paradise and half of Lenox Avenue. But there was one thing that didn't check out. Who was this Ororo woman?

"Alright," Misty said, "You've gotta point there. But here's my next question, who exactly are you? Were you this girl's mother? Her sister? A friend of the family's?"

Ororo just shrugged, "I just want to see her safely returned home."

"Oh," Misty said with mock shock, "So you're just a good samaritan trying to do the right thing?" Just like Mariah Dillard tried to "do the right thing" by shaking down half of Harlem's businesses so they could pay for renovation projects. Or how Mariah tried to "do the right thing" by providing the cops with specialized bullets that could kill Luke Cage? No, there was no such thing as someone who wanted to do the right thing for the hell of it. Ororo was working an angle on this. But for what purpose?

And out of the corner of window, the sky lit up from above. Half the block was alight with reds and greens and blues and yellows. Different shades that permeated all throughout Harlem.

"Holy shit," Claire said as she looked outside, "Are you seeing this Misty?"

Misty nodded. She fingered the old curtains that hung from the window seals. "I've never seen anything that like before."

"I have," Ororo said. "When the Asgardian first appeared back in New Mexico." Ororo, and the rest of the Xmen made it a point to know the goings on of every supernatural and genetically enhanced person that made the news. For all they knew, it could be more mutants. But, this was not the case.

"You think whatever that is, it's from Asgard?" Claire asked.

Misty Knight grabbed her gun and holstered it. "Whatever it is, we need to investigate it."

There was already enough going on in Harlem, the last thing the city needed was some space case blowing holes up and down Malcolm X street. With Luke Cage out of the picture, Harlem needed a hero.

And Misty Knight was just the woman for the job.


	5. Chapter 5

At Starfleet one of the most important lessons for an officer to learn is that every mission will probably be your last. If you can't deal with the fact that your mortality is constant, then you have no business being in Starfleet.

But even that stone cold truth never stopped Uhura from being afraid. She was afraid when she tackled Bigsby. She was afraid when the world that she had known for so long disappeared into a blinding light. The daily schedule of ship maintenance, monotone hum of the Enterprise bridge. The way the engines revved when Kirk wanted to "see what they could do."

All of it disappeared into a never ending confusion, and when the light finally faded, Uhura stood alone in a dark alleyway, no Bigsby in sight.

She tapped the communicator on her chest, hoping that she could contact...anyone. Spock, perhaps? The bridge? Hell, even Kirk would be an improvement. "Uhura to Enterprise, do you read me?" But silence was the only response. A deep, sickening nothing that blended with the noise of automobiles, and rustling garbage. Where was she? When was she?

History was never her best subject, and neither was geography. There were ancient looking brownstones that lined the streets, and a cracked sidewalk that extended far beyond Uhura's view. And the stale stench of fuel exhaust hung in the air like a fog. Each intake of smog was followed by an outtake of coughs. Grime stuck to her skin like leeches, and even in the darkness of the shadowed alleyway, she still felt exposed. It was as if she were stranded on another planet with no life support. And any Starfleet officer knew that that could only mean death.

"Stay calm Uhura," she said. "Remember your training."

First thing was first, always count your advantageous. Despite the pollution in the air, Uhura could breathe. She was still on earth (albeit a different time period) and from the looks of things the large houses, and rap music blasting from the speeding cars, she was somewhere in America. Possibly New York City? And if she was in America, that meant she wouldn't stand out too much.

She looked down at her uniform, a form fitting red shirt that hugged her waist and stomach. And tall go go boots that seemed to melt into her thighs. If she was going to blend in, she'd need a change of clothing. It wouldn't do for her to be walking around in a uniform that wasn't meant to exist yet.

But a change of costume was going to be hard without any of this timeline's currency. It's not like people just gave things away here. Uhura tapped her palms against the base of her phaser. This situation wasn't favorable in the least, but if she was going to find Bigsby and get home, she'd have to deal with it. Uhura took a deep breath of smog filled air, and stepped out into the blinding light of ancient New York.

She tried to blend into the crowds of men and women she passed. Their garments were so...old. Men sported tilted baseball caps, women dug through hand bags (they were called purses back then, right?) little girls jumped through ropes, and braided each other's hair.

Uhura walked on, keeping her eyes forward, ignoring the men who looked her way, called out to her, and made gestures when she decided they weren't worth her time.

 _Just keep in moving Uhura._

So far so good.

People slowed to examine her from time to time, and hopefully, she would just be a passing memory. Time Travel was talked about all the time at Starfleet. The dangers of polluting the time stream were paramount lessons, hell, even Spock created a document called "Temporal Prime Directive" to list in detail the best way to go about dealing with being temporally displaced.

But one of the most important aspects of Spock's theory, the one Uhura took to heart, was that temporal displacement always comes with seismic shifts. Instances in points of time that were never meant to happen.

In the blink of an eye, the sky exploded in a wash of color and light, and the illumination fell down at Uhura's feet like a waterfall. And as the light subsided, in its place stood a beautiful young woman with dark skin, brown eyes, and a steeled resolve that Uhura had only ever seen on Starfleet officers. She reached for her phaser and pointed at this woman's chin.

She could be in danger. Uhura knew very little about this point in time, and she knew even less about how her presence her was affecting the temporal space around her. Even if she did shoot and move on, what kind of unforeseen consequences would that bring way to? She could run in the other direction, but the same problem would still arise.

People everywhere gawked and took out their devices and started taking pictures. Shit, this was getting worse. If there was photographic evidence of Uhura's presence here, there was no way the time stream wouldn't be changed. Damn it. This was becoming a bigger nightmare than even Spock could imagine. No matter what Uhura could think of, there was always a million more possibilities that would counteract whatever good she tried to do. So, instead, she threw Spock's entire thesis to the wind.

She holstered her phaser. "My name is Nyota Uhura, communications officer of Starfleet and…" this was the only way. "I need help."

"Good to know," came another voice from the distance. In the crowd stood a trio of ladies. One whose hair was white as snow, and fell down to her shoulders. The other wore wrinkled scrubs with spilled coffee stains. And finally, the last one stood with an unmistakable grandeur. Her hair reached up to the sky, and her gun pointed straight to Uhura and the stranger's face.

"My name is Detective Mercedes Knight, and I'm gonna have to ask the both of you to come with me."


	6. Chapter 6

No matter how often Okoye came to New York, she would never fully understand their ways. In Wakanda, the air didn't carry the stench of hubris and unbridled smog. The people did not walk with their heads stitched to their cell phones, and their minds focused on how big their cheeseburger was going to be.

Okoye did not want to be here, traversing through a jungle of broke sidewalk, and decaying architecture. Still, she had been called upon to serve her king and country, and it is the duty of all Dora Milaje to to heed it. Even if it meant something as trivial as an undercover investigation to New York City.

"But it is more than just an investigation," King T'challa informed her. "This is a matter of Wakandan security." T'challa had not been king for very long, and the whole country was still mourning the loss of King Azari, however, a nation must not dwell on the past.

When T'challa summoned Okoye to the throne room, she knew that her mission, whatever it was, would need to take priority over her personal issues with the outside world. And truth be told, she did not like outsiders.

"What is it your highness?" she asked with a deep kneel.

T'challa sat on his throne, his palms folded over the armrests, and a scowl sitting upon his face like an unearned crown. "Wakanda has been infiltrated."

Okoye's head snapped to face T'challa's "That is impossible," she said, a sharp edge to her voice, and the sound of fear echoing in it, "No one has ever breached Wakanda's borders without our allowance."

T'challa nodded, "That is true, however no Wakandan king has ever lost his life on foreign soil. With the passing of King Azari we have learned that there is a first time for all things,"

Okoye nodded, "What is your will my king?"

"Going over our records, it would seem that traces of our Vibranium have gone missing. Clearly there is a connection between the two."

So an outsider not only managed to intrude upon Wakanda's borders, but also make off with amounts of Wakanda's treasured vibranium?

"Our sources have found a correlation between the missing Vibranium, the breach in our systems, and a strange energy signature that was present at the time the Vibranium disappeared."

Of course, even if this outsider managed to come into Wakanda, their still would be no way he, or she, would have made it out without someone catching wind of it.

"However," T'challa said, "We still do not have any kind of facial or genetic evidence to link whoever did this to the crime. In short, all we have is this strange energy signature, and nothing else."

No facial recognition? No DNA at the crime scene? Just a strange energy signature? If that were the case, then Wakanda and was essentially looking for a ghost.

"Okoye," T'challa stood, "As leader of the Dora Milaje, it is up to you to follow this signature, and retrieve Wakanda's Vibranium. I want to know who managed to breach out borders and how."

Okoye bowed her head and nodded, "Understood my king."

"But it must be done quietly. We do not need to advertise to the world Wakanda's breach of security. The country is already reeling from the loss of its king, we need not add to its woes."

To aid her, King T'challa had given a specially designed tracker that located the strange energy. It was patched through the Wakandan satellite, which meant that no matter where that energy signature showed up, Okoye would be able to locate it.

"Thank you my king," Okoye said, "I shall depart immediately."

* * *

What was the phrase that New Yorkers had? Oh yes.

"This place sucks."

And it did. Okoye had been on the trail of this energy anomaly for days now. The only thing she had going for her, was that the anomaly (whatever it was) seemed to be located somewhere in Harlem. But even that wasn't set in stone. Some days, it'd be located in Idaho. Others it would appear in Alaska. There was no rhyme or reason behind them, they just showed up randomly. She wasn't any closer to finding who, or what, had stolen Wakanda's Vibranium, and no matter how many low life thugs she tailed, or how many undercover HYDRA agents she shook down, she still couldn't locate any clues that lead her to the Vibranium.

Until the sky lit up one day.

Okoye was walking through the New York alleyway, trying to find another lead, when the sky above Harlem poured light from above like a rain storm. Lennox and Avenue and Malcolm X Boulevard was awash in reds and greens and yellows. And Okoye knew that could only mean one thing, an Asgardian was making their arrival.

Wakandans always wondered what it was about New York that attracted so many from so far. Norse gods, aliens, sorcerers. And not only that, Okoye's mystery thief seemed to make their home in this city as well. Perhaps there was a connection?

She ran through the crowds of New York, past the men who tried to call out to her, past the overcrowded busses, and children who straddled home with too full bookbags. And with the speed that only a Dora Milaje could possess, she found herself smack in the middle of a crowded street overlooking the drama unfolding.

An Asgardian woman stood strong and undaunted, and standing in front, stood another woman, her hair frizzled and unkempt. She looked as though she had been through a battle. And finally a woman whose hair defied gravity itself, pointed her pistol and glared.

"My name is Detective Mercedes Knight," she said, "And I'm going to have to ask you ladies to come with me."

From Wakanda's records, Okoye was familiar with...most of the women in this scene. Mercedes was a detective working in Harlem, the woman next to her, Claire Temple, was a nurse who was currently setting up a clinic. And finally, the tall beauty who stood in the shadows with her arms folded, was none other than Ororo Munroe.

A member of the X men, a woman who could control the very sky, and a person who had caught the eye of Wakanda's current king. And that alone was impressive. But Okoye did not recognize the one called Uhura, and their wasn't anything about her in the Wakandan database, which managed to have information on every aspect of the world, from the lineage of Ancient Ones in Tibet to the members of every HYDRA agents both retired and currently active. So, if there was nothing on this Uhura woman, than that meant she didn't exist.

And yet her she was. Strange. Almost as strange as the band of women who now stood before Okoye. A detective who knew the rounds of Harlem, a nurse who had patched up more advanced humans than anyone else, a woman who could control the weather, an Asgardian warrior, and finally a woman who did not exist. And now, here stood Okoye, leader of the Dora Milaje, looking for a thief who had stolen part of her country's greatest treasure. Could all of this mean something?

In Wakanda, they are taught that there is no such thing as consequences. All is arranged towards some grand design that can only be understood upon completion. Perhaps there was something more going on here.

"Perhaps," Okoye said, "I should keep my eye on them."


	7. Chapter 7

Misty Knight was having _quite_ the day, and if there was one thing she didn't need, it was more otherworldly, mystical bullshit making her job harder. Wasn't a superpowered fight on Lennox enough? Misty rubbed her temples as she gazed down at the two women who stood in front of her. One stood tall, an axe at her side and braids flowing down to her shoulders. The other, looked like she had gotten lost on her way to a James Bond fan club.

Detective Knight had taken them back to her office, the place still looked as ratty as she had left if, but she couldn't go down to the station. There was no telling how many people there were under Mariah's influence. Regardless of Mariah's position in politics, she was still deadlier than even the Police department was aware of. No, whatever shit was going down, Misty had to deal with it. Even if that meant going it alone.

"So," Misty began as she paced around her office, "you're from the future?" she asked, "And you're name is-"

"Nyota Uhura," Uhura said as she raised her chin. Her hands were currently cuffed in front of her, and her phaser (the thing Detective Knight called a "cheap lookin' comic con toy) was confiscated. "It is imperative that-"

Misty raised her hands, "I don't need to get into the specifics right now." She then turned to Uhura's companion, "And you-"

"Are an errant from Asgard. Valkyrie, leader of the greatest warriors Asgard has ever known, and protector of the gates of Vallhala."

 _Asgard_ , Misty thought, _right_. "I didn't know they had sistas up in Asgard." She pulled out her swivel chair from her desk, and sat down. A cold mug of coffee sat lonesome in the lamplight. This all sounded way above her pay grade. "Let's say I believe you," Misty said, "If you're really from the future, and not some overdressed cocktail waitress like I think you are, then what exactly are you doing here?"

Uhura steadied herself, the chains of her handcuffs clinked as her palms shook. She had to keep herself under control. If she didn't get out of this mess soon, there was no telling what havoc Bigsby would wreak on the timeline. For all she knew, the damage was already irreversible. "I was taken her by Bigsby, a time terrorist who does most of his work through genetics, and other illegal experimentations. When my crew and I found him in the outskirts of an asteroid, he tried to escape in the time stream. I followed him, and now I'm here."

Misty sighed, "All of that sounds like bullshit."

"Hold on," Ororo said, appearing from behind the shadowed corners. Had she been standing there this whole time? "What what this you spoke of? About genetics?" She flipped her long hair back, and stepped closer, she was graceful as a summer breeze.

Misty popped her tongue. "You're still here?" she asked.

Ororo nodded, "I have no intention of going anywhere until Kayla is found." Misty Knight may have forgotten about this girl, but Ororo had not. It was hard enough out in the world for Mutants without someone snatching them up hoping to study their genes.

"Oh, is that so Miss Shady?" Misty asked, "For all I know, you could be connected to all of this shit too. Why the fuck shouldn't I have yo' ass locked up with those two?" Misty asked as she pointed towards Uhura and Valkyrie.

"Because you know, just as I do, that locking me up won't get you any closer to finding Kayla."

"Yeah?" Misty said, "Well neither will keepin' your shady ass around either."

"You didn't even know the girl was missing until I showed up," Ororo countered.

"Which makes your inclusion in this investigation even more suspicious." Misty sauntered through her office, her lonely mug of coffee shaking with each step she took. "You expect me to believe that you just _happened_ to be aware of this girl's disappearance before anyone else, and you just _happen_ to come her with info about her. Why not her parents? Or her close friends? No, it's you, some random girl who has no prior connection to the missing girl in question." Misty faced Ororo and scowled, "In the police business, we call that _shady as fuck_.

"Is there are reason you're so suspicious of me, Detective Knight?" Ororo asked, a faint roll of thunder in her voice and a slight gust in the air, it was almost as if the world was bending to her temperament.

"Yeah, you haven't given me any reason _not_ to be."

There was a storm brewing.

"Alright enough," Claire said as she injected herself between the two women. "Here's an idea, how about we not kill each other before we find the girl. Does that sound like a good plan?" She turned to Ororo, "Look. Misty's doing everything she can to find your missing girl, alright? Just give her time." And then, on instinct, she turned to Misty, "And you, detective, can't be so quick to dismiss other people's observations. I know you act like you're super cop, but that shit was what got you in trouble in the first place. Or do I really have to bring up Mariah Dillard?"

That stung. And Misty winced as if she had been stabbed in the shoulder. But, even though Claire's words hurt, they were still true.

"Misty," Claire said, "Why don't you go pour Miss Ororo some coffee, and I'll watch after our guests."

"Claire," Misty said, "You're not trained to handle this kind of shit."

"Misty, I've dealt with ninjas, super strong women, bulletproof boyfriends, a blind guy who kicks more ass than Steve Rogers, and a rich dude who can make his fist glow. I think I'm pretty qualified to handle a woman who fell from the sky, and another one who's from the future. Don't ya think?"

"Don't tell me you're buying her, 'From the future' story too."

"Honestly," Claire said, "It's the most believable thing I've heard all year."


	8. Chapter 8

When Thor told Valkyrie that mortals were a strange species, she took the Odinson at his word. But, even she never turned thought to _how_ strange mortals were. Valkyrie had never seen a people spend so much time trying to disprove what was right before their eyes. Detective Knight had claimed to witness Valkyrie's arrival, had she not? Had the sky not alighted, heralding Heimdall's power? And Valkyrie sat, her wrists chained and her tale carelessly tossed aside.

Still, there was much to uncover about Lady Uhura, and if this Bigsby was as grand a threat as she claimed, then the Valkyrie needed to work quickly. Valkyrie could break through these restraints, and continue on her way, but what answers would that yield? When the Odinson first arrived on Midgard he allowed his hubris to cloud his judgement, and it made his return to Asgard all the more difficult. Valkyrie would not allow herself to make the same mistake.

"Oh come on now," Claire said as she pulled up a chair, "If you really are from Asgard, you could break out of those cuffs and walk out of here."

Valkyrie smirked, "True, however there is much more to this to unravel, and I fear brute strength will not yield the solutions we seek."

"Well," Claire said, rubbing her neck, "You've certainly got the lingo down. I'll give you that."

"If you wish for a demonstration of my strength then I will gladly show it to you, however I fear it will not get us any closer to-"

"To finding Bigsby and getting the timeline patched up," Uhura interjected.

"Timeline?" Claire asked. "You mean, like the present day?"

Ororo stood behind Claire, her arms folded and her lips pursed. "And you mentioned this Bigsby's interest in genetics. What exactly does this have to do with Kayla, and the other disappearing people?"

"People have been disappearing?," Uhura asked, "It wouldn't be too farfetched to assume Bigsby was behind it."

"Okay, hold on." Claire rubbed her temples, and tried to make sense of what was going on. No matter where she went, she couldn't avoid meeting special people and their special problems. She thought it was enough when she pulled Matt Murdock, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, out of the garbage. She thought she'd be done with all of this. But then came Jessica Jones, a woman with super strength, and Luke Cage, a man with bulletproof skin, and Danny Rand, a kid with a fucking glowing fist and the temperament of a child. And now? Now she was dealing with a woman from the future, and an Asgardian with impressive impulse control. Hell, Misty could learn a thing or two. "Bigsby, a time traveling terrorist from the future is taking people?"

Uhura nodded, "That's what he does. He takes people so he can experiment on them. Find the inconsistencies in their genetics. That kind of thing."

"But, why come all the way to the past for that?" Ororo asked. "Aren't there just as many people to abduct in your time?"

"Yes," Uhura answered, "But Starfleet's been-"

"Wait," Claire interrupted, "Starfleet's that military place you were talking about, right?"

Uhura cocked her head, and scrunched her face….she almost looked insulted. "No, Starfleet is not military. We're about space exploration, and observation. We don't start fights."

"Oh?" Ororo asked, her breath clipped and her eyes flashing, "Is that why you had a weapon on you when you were taken in?"

"It's a phaser, and it's for self defense only," Uhura countered, "Not everyone you meet in space is of the friendly sort." Despite Starfleet's, and Earth's commitments to peace, diplomacy can only get so much done, especially when the culture you have come in contact with, is more interested in bloodshed than words. "Still, with Bigsby in this time period, and no Starfleet to track him down, he can pretty much do whatever he pleases. And that includes using future tech to kidnap innocent people."

"People like Kayla," Ororo said.

"Okay," Claire said, "That makes a little sense, assuming everything you're saying is right. But," she thumbed to Valkyrie, "That doesn't explain what she's doing here."

"I go where I am needed," Valkyrie explained. "Heimdall foresaw a great disturbance somewhere on Midgard and his wisdom led me to Lady Uhura. Clearly Bigsby is a menace who threatens all of our realms, and I cannot rest until his treachery is stopped."

Claire rolled her eyes. _She's definitely got the lingo right._

"But, we can't do anything if I'm chained here like a prisoner," Uhura said. "Look, I don't know what's going on with your partner Claire, but you've gotta understand, Valkyrie and I are on your side."

There was something in Uhura's voice. Something that reminded Claire of the strength that Matt held, or the determination that Jessica had, or the righteousness that Luke stood for, and the innocence that Danny was so well known for. A woman from the future wasn't the strangest thing Claire had encountered, hell, it didn't even make the Top Ten list. And like Claire's mother said, it was her destiny to keep meet people like this. People who...are special. People who protect those who are forgotten about. People who, even when their jackets are riddled with ripped holes, still wipe the blood from their faces and carry on; undaunted.

"Alright," Claire said. "I believe you, and," she couldn't believe she was about to do this again, "I'll help you."

 _Shit, I'm gonna regret this._


	9. Chapter 9

_Who needs trust, when you've got power?_

That wasn't always Mariah Dillard's philosophy. She had never sought to trade trust for political gain. No, she wasn't going to be like all of those policy pushers who only wanted to get their name in the press. Mariah Dillard was going to make changes. She was going to change Harlem. She was going to make it what it once was. She would be the one to usher in a new Renaissance, to inspire the new Langstons and Zoras and Cullens. A new Harlem Renaissance. That would be her legacy.

But so much shit just kept getting in the way. From Cornell and his reluctance to move let go of his hustling, to Luke Cage and constant need to stick his uppity ass in all of her affairs, and Misty Knight who had been playing fast and loose with the police regulations.

Even after successfully removing Luke Cage from Harlem, dealing with Diamondback (that gun pushing son of a bitch wasn't anyone she wanted in her city), and weakening the cities overall trust in the Harlem Police Department (of course, that wasn't a hard task to do), she now had everything she could ever dream. But, she felt as if something was still missing, as if it could all come crumbling down at any given moment. Hell, Cornell learned that lesson the hard way...and Mariah was more than happy to teach it to him.

Cottonmouth was dead. Diamondback was gone. Luke Cage was gone. Harlem was hers. She could use her position as a politician to push her own vision. She could use her Cornell's connections to the streets to push guns, and deploy whatever fear mongering tactics she wanted. If she had learned anything from Diamondback, it was that fear was the best motivator.

But why did she feel so unsatisfied? Sitting in the office of her brownstone home, her floors as immaculate as a trumpeter's tongueing. Mariah Dillard felt a vague hunger than gnawed at her every time she held a pen close to her chest, or looked over a new policy that would be introduced to the board.

"What you're feeling right now is longing, my dear. The perfect fuel for ambition."

Mariah froze. Fear was a powerful motivator alright. Fear of failure. Fear of missed opportunities. Fear of the unknown, and worse, fear of knowing what was to come. She tapped her finger against the polished wood of her desktop, and sighed. "Oh, so you're a mind reader now too?" she asked.

Mariah turned in her chair, and laid eyes on the man who now stood before her. Drew Bigsby. A tall lanky man, who smiled with the ease of a fox, and spoke with the force of a preacher. He was as white as the gentrifiers who kept coming into Mariah's city, pushing up the taxes and driving all the black people out. And that was reason enough for Mariah to distrust him.

But...there was something more to him. Something other worldly. He had claimed to be a time traveler, someone who could help steer Mariah's political career in the right direction. Harlem would be nothing compared to where she could go with Bigsby's help.

Normally, Mariah viewed herself too sensible to be wooed by a story as ludicrous as time travel, but in the last few years, it had become apparent that the world was changing. Harlem now existed in a world where gods with hammers could command thunder, where portals from space opened up out of nowhere and rained fire down to the earth. There were men with bulletproof skin, and super strong women who would snap a man's neck because he mind controlled her to do it. A Time Traveler was the most believable of all of them.

And besides, what kind of a politician would she be if she didn't take opportunities when they arose? And if this Bigsby character really was just a con man, she could do away with him as easily as she had Cottonmouth. There was nothing to risk, and everything to gain.

"Oh no," Bigsby said, "Not a mind reader, just someone who has an appreciation for history. You know, all of the great leaders throughout time had the exact same hunger in their guts."

Bigsby's flattery was faker than Tony Stark's humility. "Bigsby, I'm a politician. I know how this shit is played. Offer up a little nice words, and you think people'll just fall in line." Mariah scoffed, and felt for the gun that was hidden beneath her desk. Shades had been insistent that she keep it near her at all times, and lately she was glad for it. "I swear to God, Bigsby, if you're promises don't come through I'll-"

"I understand Madame Councilwoman," Bigsby said, his palms out in a sincere apprehension, "Believe me, when this is all over, you and I will both get what we desire. I guarantee it."

It had been weeks since Bigsby started hiding out at Mariah's estate. She had the perfect cover for him. He could go about his business at Harlem's Paradise, the club she owned, which was still undergoing renovations. No one would be there, and Bigsby could conduct his business with no interruptions. Whatever it was he was doing (which apparently involved disappearing for long periods of time, and coming back to her brownstone with splatters of blood on his coat) Mariah didn't care to know the details of. She had long gotten over her discomfort for sacrifices of petty lives. If this future man's dealings involved making a few people disappear, so be it. It was all for the betterment of her career after all.

Still, Mariah could not fully trust this man. She may have been ambitious, but ambition is a flame that can be dangerous as well as advantageous. The matter of Drew Bigsby had to be dealt with delicately. Things would move slowly. As all rises to power did. But...Mariah was patient.

She stood to face Bigsby, his face a deep shade of deceitful. An image Mariah knew too well. "I may be behind you," she said, "But that doesn't mean I trust you."

Bigsby merely shrugged, "Well, who needs trust when you've got power, right?"


End file.
